


She Heals Everything.

by NothingSnow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Heavy pining, M/M, Masturbation, More tags to come when the story unfolds, Slow Burn, like a REALLY slow burn, unlikable lizard meets a very likable birdie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSnow/pseuds/NothingSnow
Summary: Hanzo finally decides to choose a side. Though, he regrets his decisions-- until he meets *her.* This rarepair needs more love!!





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo stepped off the ferry and looked out and over the bustling city of Gibraltar— people rushing about in the busy morning port, the close-knit multicolored buildings that arched up over the city and pushed into the large mountain that stood guard over the city-state. _That_ was where he was headed; the old Overwatch Watchpoint Gibraltar. The old Overwatch base was built into the mountain itself— a fortress in its own right. Fortified and as defensible as a _rock_ could be. As he slowly meandered his way through the city, he thought on the conversation he’d had with Genji— in passing, awkward and filled with long silences. Hanzo pulled the brim of his jacket up a little more to shrink down and cover his ears— despite the July heat of the Mediterranean. Brow furrowed, he almost wanted to turn back. There were too many unknowns here. What if Genji was out on a mission and no one believed his ties? Had Genji told these people what he'd done? Of course he would have. Would they understand _why_ he did it? Would he be turned away? Would he be arrested? Killed? _Shit_. This all was a mistake, now, wasn’t it—    
  
“Hanzo?” A cybernetic voice piqued the Shimada’s interest— turning his attention to the source of the noise. Genji was there— most of his cybernetics covered with a hoodie and close-fitting jeans, his mask off. “Hanzo, you’re here! I have been waiting.” That scarred face grinned, Genji pulling his hands from his pockets and holding them at his sides.    
  
Hanzo noticed the scars, first. He _always_ did. Deep-lying, grayed gouges that trailed across his brother’s face like an old, grey and pink road map. Then, it was the cybernetic jaw— replacing the entirety of his lower lip— flesh disappearing into metal with more surgical scars. Pain and regret filled his gut, Hanzo’s hand gripping at his chest and his mouth pressing into a line. Hanzo’s face blanched, and his entire body tensed. He wanted to vomit. He had done this— he should have...!    
  
“Come. There is someone I want you to meet.” Genji interjected, jarring his brother from his thoughts. Elbowing Hanzo in the side as he moved past him to head in the direction of the watchpoint, weaving by people and earning more than a few looks as the two passed. Genji either didn’t notice, or he simply didn’t care. The younger Shimada had always been a playboy— seeing him like this now was... difficult. To act as if everything was okay? Worse. This was a mistake. This all was.   
  
He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, at first. It was awkward. What could he say? As the two made their trek through the city and up into the mountain; It wasn’t until they were away from the noise of the docks that he finally found his voice.    
  
“Are you... happy?” He managed, calloused hands buried in his pockets and looking to the hood that obscured part of Genji’s face as he walked next to him. “Does this ‘Overwatch’ treat you well?”    
  
“They are my colleagues. Comrades. _Family_ , if you want to call it that.” He said simply, the cyborg’s posture mimicking that of his brother. Hands in his hoodie’s pockets, though the hood that obscured his dark brown hair turned to look at Hanzo.    
  
Hanzo’s heart tightened, and he scowled into the cowl of his coat; his voice gone once again.    
  
“ _Hanzo_.”    
  
Sharp brown eyes flitted back up to meet the cyborg’s gaze as they walked together.    
  
“You did what you had to. You were raised to follow their demands. I have moved on from what has happened; and there are bigger fights than yours and mine.” Genji spoke softly, the noise from the port dying down as they put distance behind them between it. “I didn’t listen to your warnings.”    
  
Hanzo paused, mulling over his brother’s words. He did try to warn Genji in the months before Hanzo had been forced to act. Like a dog performing for its master. The elder Shimada remembered that time, for the first time in a while. Hushed whispers in the halls, verbal fights and once a slap to try and get through to him. But Genji had been set in his ways of drugs and sex; and the Elders soon grew tired of it. “...Yes.” He managed, swallowing hard.    
  
“I was angry with you, at first. Perhaps not at you. At the clan. And at you for choosing them over me. I became a dog for Overwatch’s dark side. And I hunted the Shimada down, one by one.” Genji continued, his attention locked ahead, and his face obscured by his hood. "You would have been proud of me. I was a true assassin then, like Father raised us to be."    
  
Hanzo had defected from the clan within a month following the fight and hadn’t been present for the downfall. But, in hindsight, it must have been beautiful. With the deaths of the elders and the absence of any heirs, the Shimada name simply became a Yakuza family. There was likely a fight for power, and now it was just like any other crime syndicate.    
  
It would only take one little assassination to retake the clan for his own.    
  
“I killed the elders, Hanzo.” Genji’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. “All five of them. For me. And I suppose, for you, as well.”    
  
“I suppose you were ashamed I was not present in your kill count.” Hanzo spoke before he thought, biting his tongue.    
  
Genji paused, a long silence that’s lined with a little quiet chuckle. “I suppose I was.”    
  
Hanzo was quiet, then, his fingertip tapping at the metal flask in his pocket and wishing it were filled with alcohol. He, in this moment, was painfully sober. He'd finished the flask off on the trip here-- but it hadn't been enough to even be _buzzed. How disappointing._   
  
It was then the two were quiet, Genji speaking up at the security checkpoint and after a moment, they stepped onto base.    
  
Walls high and mixed with the natural barrier of the mountain and the concrete and steel base built into it. People in various service uniforms bustled about. Everyone working tirelessly at Overwatch’s rebirth and support from the city states worldwide. Though the noise felt uncomfortable to the already anxious Hanzo Shimada. The breeze blew in and it was significantly cooler up here-- shielded from the sun and    
  
Genji, however, seemed right at home. He led the way through the maze of people and the labyrinth of maintenance halls as they descended into the base.    
  
“Who did you want me to meet, Genji?” He finally spoke up— trying to keep his tone light, despite the fact that he was speaking sharper than usual. “They must be important to you.”    
  
“It is two people, actually.” He mused, scanning a keycard in his sleeve at a security door,leading him through to a place that sounded awfully quiet. The sound was dulled— noise dampeners in the floor absorbing the sound of his sneakers where Hanzo stepped. Genji’s cybernetic feet were silent already.    
  
It was a small space— a room the size of a standard hospital room. The lights dimmed and it was obviously a place of religious meditation. An omnic sat on a pillow on the floor— or perhaps it was floating like a cheap side show act. Several orbs surrounding its neck hovered in a slow orbit— glowing like some mystical fortune teller. It’s head bowed, it’s hands on its knees and in an obvious meditative state.   
  
“Master, there is someone here I would like you to meet.” Genji spoke quietly, coming to kneel next to the omnic, the cyborg turning to Hanzo to wave him to sit with a rather excited little smile.   
  
To which Hanzo hastily complied, kneeling properly on his knees and his hands placed firmly on his lower thighs.    
  
The omnic rose its head up, then, those slits ‘looking’ from Genji and then to Hanzo at his brother’s gesture. A head cocked, and it’s emotionless face studied him for a long moment. It moved as though it were in slow motion-- a pinnacle of grace and peace.   
  
“Hanzo Shimada.” It mused— that robotic voice sounding... almost intrigued. “Peace to you.”    
  
Hanzo’s brows rose. How did this omnic know who he was? A glance to Genji, narrowing those sharp eyes suspiciously before turning back to the omnic.   
  
“I am Tekhartha Zenyatta.” He held out a lithe, robotic hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, at long last.”    
  
Hanzo hesitantly shook his hand, the discomfort on his face clear as his gaze flitted from Genji to Zenyatta and back before letting it fall to his knees.    
  
“There is no need for hesitation. I mean you no harm, just as you mean no harm to Genji, or I.”    
  
The omnic’s voice soothed Hanzo’s anxious pretzel-stomach, ever so slightly. His shoulders loosened, and he let his hands fall to his lap. Perhaps it was best to strike conversation. “You are... Genji’s _teacher_ , then?”    
  
“Indeed. I assisted your brother in coming to terms with himself following what transpired between you. He is a passionate individual.”    
  
“Master, please.” Genji spoke up, almost looking embarrassed.    
  
Hanzo said nothing, gaze locking back at his lap as a deep-set scowl settled into his face.    
  
A metal hand came to rest on his arm— nearly making the older Shimada jump. Zenyatta peered at him, the metal face devoid of emotion despite moving so similarly to a human.    
  
“In life, we sometimes must do things that are out of our control. True— you committed a heinous act. But time has passed; your feeling of guilt needs no more time. Genji has moved on— and so should you, my friend.”    
  
Hanzo shrugged away, perhaps a little more forcefully than he intended, face growing hot. A gentle, polite bow forward, before he stood up. “Thank you for helping my brother when I could not.” He recoiled; backing up and away and near-clamoring to leave the room. His head pounded with his own intrusive thoughts and as the door slammed behind him, it was only then that he heard Genji’s voice.    
  
“Hanzo.”    
  
He snapped to look at him, heaving breath halting in his chest for a moment.    
  
“How did he know who I was.” He asked, though it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a demand.    
  
“He simply knew, Hanzo. I spoke nothing of your appearance to him.”    
  
“I do not _belong_ here, Genji. These are good people. I am _not_ a part of them.” Hanzo gestured about, as if referring to the entire base, before slapping at his chest.    
  
“If that is true then it is the same for me.” Genji responded quickly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I grew up with a far more reckless life than you did. You were given an order that you’d been raised your entire life to follow. You need _help_ , not _punishment_.”    
  
Hanzo snorted, his face locking in a scowl and his gaze turning away with a frustrated up-motion in his hands.    
  
“There is still one more person I need you to meet, _Anija_.”    
  
“I do not wish to meet them.” Hanzo visibly recoiled at the affectionate nickname from their youth.   
  
“You will want to meet this one. She is perhaps far more stubborn than you.” Genji gave a teasing little smirk, moving to lead the way from the little quiet room.    
  
Hanzo had no choice but to go with him, as he didn’t know this place well enough. He was forced to follow— giving a groan— or perhaps a frustrated growl in response. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has a crush.

  
The medical bay was pristine and bustling just as everywhere else— medical professionals darting to and fro and just like in the city, Genji moved right past them with ease. It felt too bright, too open and too busy for Hanzo to think straight. His head was already a spiraling mess— Genji seemingly moved too quickly and he swore he could catch the nurses, both human and omnic, staring at him as he passed. He shrunk down into the cowl of his jacket, his heart racing in his chest. The sounds of the machines around him almost deafening.

 

Genji began to speak to one of the nurses, the two having a rather hushed, energetic conversation. Though, the concern was written on both of their faces— especially Genji’s. The cyborg's posture almost suggested panic. 

 

“...she was roughed up in that last mission. A broken shoulder, at least. But she won’t let anyone treat her.” Hanzo managed to tune in to the nurse, Genji shaking his head vehemently. 

 

“Is she _conscious_?” The cyborg breathed, looking up and around.

 

“Yes. She’s in her office. Mr. Shimada, if you and your friend can try and get through to her, _please_. She needs to at least _rest._ ” 

 

“Of course, Miss Köngeter.” Genji gave a quick, respectful bow, reaching over to grab Hanzo by the sleeve and drag him along. 

 

“What is going on?” Hanzo asked, more irritated than anything else. 

 

“Dr. Ziegler is the head doctor, here. She is responsible for saving my life and designing my cybernetics. Long story short, she just returned from a mission to Singapore not long ago, and was injured during a firefight. She is stubborn and likely does not want to fall behind on her work, and has refused medical treatment following her own injuries.”

 

"Is she not capable of treating herself?"

 

"Well, yes, but that is not the point, Hanzo."

 

At that, he came to stop in front of a door, the dark metal clearly marked with the woman’s name. 

 

_ Dr. Angela Ziegler, MD _

_ Head of Medical Science and Development _

 

Genji knocked a few times, before letting himself in with concern in his voice as he called out to her. 

 

The office was small, a large desk in the center nearly covered in paperwork, and a computer terminal standing tall over the stacks. A few filing cabinets in the back of the room stood nearly to the ceiling, save for some room for some pothos plants and their long, leaf-filled vines to drape over the sides. A coffeemaker sat on a side table next to a couch along the left wall of the room, and a chair was placed facing it. It was noticeably quieter in here, versus the chaos of the hospital behind them. Almost peaceful. 

 

He could only assume the woman in question was the one seated on the corner of her desk, an IV in her arm and holding at a blackened shoulder. 

 

Hanzo halted as he took her in— he hadn’t seen anyone so completely and truly breathtakingly  _beautiful_ as her. 

 

Long, platinum blonde hair, cascading about her shoulders as if it were made of _silk_. Pale skin unmarred save for the dark bruises on her shoulder. She had high cheekbones and large, blue eyes. Eyes that lifted to look rather dismissively in the Shimadas’ direction; as if irritated at their intrusion. Blonde lashes that flushed along her cheek each time she blinked. Body lithe, clad in what looked to be specialized leggings tucked into armored boots, and a cropped, white tank top emblazoned with a large Overwatch insignia on its front. A Valkyrie— _Seraphim_ returned from war. An angel. Something too beautiful to live on a wretched world like this. 

 

In that moment Hanzo’s heart swelled— his hand touching at his chest as he felt _giddy_ for the first time in his life. It was a different adrenaline than from his assassination Jobs. It was a different thrill than from the men and women in his life had given him. It was something more. Something far more than him wanting a quick fuck. 

 

The dragons stirred under his flesh. Usually they only woke when he was in the act of killing-- snuffing a life for their spirits to consume like flames on tinder. The electrifying energy made his skin crawl, and almost feel as if it were burning in its own right. He wanted her, by god, he wanted her. 

 

The bruises on her shoulder only made him feel a selfish tang of protectiveness. He wanted to hunt the person responsible for her injuries down and torture and mar them. He wanted to punish them for daring to commit such an act.

 

“Who is your friend, Genji?” She asked, reaching over to her side to work her injured arm into a sling, mouth twisting into a pained grimace. 

 

The sound of her voice made Hanzo’s heart flutter, the dark thoughts evaporating as if she controlled his every whim, and he only grew more irritated— more at himself. He was exhausted from the trip. This foolish feeling would pass. It had to. 

 

“Yes, Dr. Ziegler. This is Hanzo. My brother.” He extended a hand out to introduce him-- as if he were a guest of honor. That anxiety settled over him again-- Hanzo’s face curling into a scowl, waiting for insults to be thrown in his direction. 

 

Angela looked pensive for a moment, clearly thinking heavily, before offering a hand out to him with a smile. “Forgive me for not standing, but I am planted until I finish this IV. A pleasure to meet you.” 

 

It wasn’t until Genji nudged him forward that he snapped out of his own little haze, floored by her response. A calloused hand came to meet hers as he stepped forward-- her skin soft and pale and warm in comparison to his hardened, stone-like fingers as they wrapped around the back of her palm. A quick handshake felt like a few minutes-- the man looking to her hand as she gave such simple pleasant formalities to him.

 

“A pleasure.” He managed, voice gruff and almost sounding choked. A little quirk of a smile-- knowing his scowl was likely unbecoming. 

 

“Aah, so you are capable of a smile.” She mused, giving a little laugh. “You and Genji are quite alike, in that aspect.” She looked off, as if remembering something. 

 

“We were asked by Ms. Köngeter--” Genji started, Angela rolling her eyes as she let Hanzo’s hand go. 

 

“Genji, I am fine. I am already healing, and will be right as rain within the hour. You know full well what my Caduceus technology is capable of.” She huffed, touching at where her shoulder was wrapped in its sling. 

 

“Dr. Ziegler, if I may... _interject_.” Hanzo cleared his throat, his attention locking on the shoulder and avoiding that angelic face that was so close, now. That face that had a slight flush of color under her pale flesh, and even less noticeable freckles that dotted along her nose. Visible only to a scanning eye like his. “Perhaps it would be best for everyone if you took the afternoon to rest. Ease the worry of your staff and my brother. I am sure you are _capable_ , either way.” 

 

Angela quirked a brow at Hanzo, the corners of her mouth curling up in a rather amused little smile. “Well, well, well. I suppose I cannot turn down a request so formal as that.” She slowly slid off the corner of her desk, Hanzo instinctively holding out a hand to catch her if she needed. But, as she stood, she was able to stand on her own, and Hanzo’s hands both buried themselves in his pockets.

 

Genji huffed behind him, and Hanzo almost flinched. 

 

Angela began to move away, wheeling the IV stand along with her as she fetched her keys from her desk. “Have you been given quarters, yet?” She asked, hip-bumping the drawer shut with a jingle of her keys. 

 

Hanzo looked up to her again, shaking his head. “No. Genji has dragged me halfway across the base, however.” An attempt at a joke.

 

An attempt that did not go in vain. Angela laughed, at that-- perhaps more akin to a giggle-- the noise like bells ringing at a wedding-- joyful and bright-- that only drove the man further into his emotional rollercoaster. His breath caught in his throat, entranced by her face as it lifted in the pureness of laughter. He smiled, as well-- chuckling as if her laughter was mildly contagious. He looked to Genji, the cyborg’s arms crossed as he rolled his eyes. 

 

“Well, Dr. Ziegler, please, get some rest. At least for today. I will show Hanzo to an available room, and perhaps we can introduce him to Winston in the morning.” 

 

“I am sure Wilhelm will want to meet him, too. I know how you two get along.” She mused, waving a hand in excitement before heading to the door, waiting for the Shimadas to follow as she turned off the light. 

 

“Rest well, Doctor Ziegler.” Hanzo gave a polite bow of his head as she turned with a wave to start walking away. 

 

The Shimadas stood and watched her go down the hall as they all left her office, Genji slapping at Hanzo’s chest with a cybernetic hand once she rounded a corner and disappeared out of earshot. Metal fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, and Hanzo's heart nearly _stopped._

 

“< _You have the hots for the doctor that saved my life. >_” Genji almost-hissed, though his mouth curled up into a grin as he switched into their mother tongue of Japanese.

 

Hanzo’s face burned a bright, beet red, his mouth curling into a grimacing scowl, as if he were _disgusted_ at the thought. “ _< How dare you!>_” 

 

Genji’s face only brightened further at his reaction, and Hanzo gave a groan. 

 

“ _< Just show me where I may rest. I am exhausted!>_” 

 

“ _< Alright, alright, Anija. I won’t tell her, either.>_” Genji's voice was dripping with his snide mirth as he grinned, releasing Hanzo's jacket and leading him along.

 

“ _< Cease.>_”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's gonna be real kinky so hold on to your butts


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo has a vivid imagination.

The quarters Hanzo had been given were small and simple. Bare-bones, which he expected. A bathroom, armed with the basics of hygiene and what looked to be a small washer and dryer, a bed, with a blanket that looked to have the Overwatch insignia marked on it, a dresser; three drawers, a closet with a work table within and what looked to be enough space to store any other sort of combat equipment. He couldn’t ask for much— though he would have to venture into town to buy more alcohol. The archer put down his duffel, rolling his neck as he locked the door behind him. No windows, a light overhead and the room was dreary and grey. He unzipped his jacket, tossing the garment onto the bed as he stripped down, readying himself for a much-needed shower. 

 

Calloused hands pulled his dark hair from its tie, the tresses falling messily about his shoulders as he tousled it with a scrape of fingertips on his scalp. The water started, he paused as he stepped under the stream of steaming hot water and pulled the curtain shut.

 

A fleeting thought— imagining it was _her_ hands scraping through his hair. Before he could stop himself, his hand tightened into a fight fist within his dark locks, tugging gently as his eyes fluttered shut with a breathy hum. Imagining it was _her_ , the man lost to his daydream before he realized his prick had grown hard and stood at attention. Defiant of his usual manners and respect.

 

“ _God damnit_.” He hissed angrily, leaning against the wall as he scowled down at it. How could a single woman get him like _this_? So _helpless_ and _wanton_ and _needy?_ So _disgusting_ and _unrefined?_

 

He didn’t deserve _her_. He didn’t deserve _any_ of this. He was a _pig._

 

But his hand wrapped around his waiting cock, a pleasured hiss as he let his head lull back, unable to help himself imagining it was _her_ hands on him. His eyes shut, and he gave in to his fantasy for a long, long while. 

 

His imagination ran wild and free— imagining _her_ lips on his, _her_ hands on his skin, and his hands on _hers_. He saw _her_ hips, _her_ flesh so pale and supple against his darker, chiseled callouses. _She_ was so warm, and inviting— every curve and bend of _her_ lithe frame he traced with his hands, settling his hips between _her_ legs as _she_ rolled to rest atop him. He watched _her_ bounce up and down, platinum hair loose and flowing like the ethereal being _she_ was. Blue eyes fluttering shut, those blonde lashes brushing on _her_ wanton-flushed cheeks.  _Her_ breasts supple and full as he touches them— showing them the love he had for _her_. The love, the adoration, the devotion and desire. A nipple in between his teeth, moving to flesh in his teeth as he leaves little marks on _her_. Marking her as his. The dragons’ possessiveness, shining through.

 

His fantasy of _her_ felt so good; and in his exhausted state, it felt so real. So vivid. An audible groan escapes his lips as _she_ cried out his name inside his head, the medic having her way with him; using him as some little toy. 

 

Hanzo’s hands are now bound, in his head— his daydream like a drug-induced haze, floating from one fantasy to the next—arms hoisted above his head at the instant the thought crossed his mind. The woman’s visage changes— the man now imagining _her_ as his dominatrix— his _goddess_ to worship, _her_ will was his, and he _her_ little plaything. Her pet, devoted, dependent, and needy for _her_. Only _her_. He wants to keep _her_ safe. He wants _her_ to be happy. He lets _her_ put her hands around his neck, squeezing at his pulse and relishing in his lightheadedness. He lets _her_ use him as _she_ wishes, grateful for any sort of affection. Any touch, any graze of fingertips.

 

He imagines worshipping _her_ — his lips grazing over _her_ skin and showing _her_ how beautiful _she_ is. He thinks of his head settling between her thighs, the medic’s little bell-like voice breathless and wispy as _she_ cries out his name. 

 

And his name sounds so wonderful falling from _her_ lips. A chorus of angels singing just for him. A sound that breaks his heart and mends it instantaneously. A sound that drives him mad-- that he would fall to a knee and go to war for without question. He understood, in that moment, why ancient wars were fought over women-- they held such power over men with a simple look. An utterance of a name, a grazing touch. Men were weak-- and a woman could destroy with neigh a lift of a finger. And _she_ destroyed him with a smile, a handshake, and simply a gaze in his direction.

 

His tongue laps at _her_ clit, _her_ back arching and those long, lovely legs clamp around his skull; and _her_ fingers curl into his hair to keep him there. _She_ begs him not to stop, that _she’s_ so close, that _she_ wants to cum for him, when… 

 

Hanzo’s eyes snap open as he comes. He gives a moan, pumping his cock with his hand and unable to help his hips from jerking forward into it, watching his load of cum fall to the floor of the shower and down the drain— wasted. His knees shake— his orgasm giving him total clarity of the situation that it was numbing in its own right. The water felt too hot, and too cold. 

 

He stands breathless and wide-eyed for a long moment, letting his hand fall to the side and feeling more disgusted in himself now than he was when he entered the room. His head droops down into the stream of hot water, and he grumbles in frustration as he furiously scrubs himself clean. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation.

The next few days passed by both quickly and slowly. Genji had dragged him around practically by his ear. He had been inducted into the books— he had met their acting-commander, a genetically altered gorilla of all things, the creature a world renowned scientist by the name of ‘Winston.’ Where he expected animosity, he only got hesitation, and a gentle acceptance. He’d been officially inducted-- paperwork filled out, a communicator given, and all formalities cleared.

He met a large German man, boisterous and loud, by the name of Reinhardt. He hailed from the old Crusaders— the elder Shimada surprised that he even had a squire—Brigitte— the two continuing the legacy of the noble warriors even after their annihilation during the crisis. Reinhardt had swept both of the Shimadas up into a full-armed bear hug at their meeting— earning a laugh from the cyborg and certainly a grunt of disapproval from Hanzo. 

He met Lucio— the international DJ, and Hana song— International war hero from Korea. The two were inseparable— perhaps they were together. But battlefield relationships never ended well. They would drift apart or one would die. There were no alternatives. A moment of self pity for his own disgustingly foolish crush.

He met McCree— the man certainly distrusting of Hanzo, though he shook his hand. Though the hand he’s been offered was his cybernetic— the grip too tight to be welcoming, and the same sentiment went for the way the very wanted American Gunslinger glared at him from under the brim of his hat. Genji and He has worked together— and Genji had apologized for his behavior after the meeting. ‘Jesse is simply distrusting.’ He had said. But he didn’t quite believe it. That was _sixty million dollars_ that Overwatch was hiding. He had better have been worth it.

He’d met the rest of Angela’s medical staff, each of them seemingly just as kind and understanding as the medic herself; though perhaps not nearly as stubborn. Several had followed her from medical school; their friendship and camaraderie having lasted for over ten years. But she herself was busy— and Hanzo over his first few days barely saw more than glimpses of her. Each time his heart lifted, the sight of her platinum hair enough to fuel him for what felt like years— but simultaneously missing her as soon as she vanished again; a dove feather in the wind. Passing in the halls, a fleeting glance and a little wave from afar, and he was smitten each time. She had the poor man wrapped around her little finger, and she didn’t even know it. He couldn’t even formulate her name in his mind— he did not deserve to utter it even there. Not to mention his exhaustion-fueled fantasy of her, and he hated himself even more for it. 

He met Lena Oxton-- a champion pilot and quite possibly one of the quickest minds he could have ever imagined. He heard of her story of an accident that left her in parallel tandem with time itself. It was impressive that someone could stay so optimistic and bubbly despite all she had gone through. 

He met Mei-Ling Zhou-- the scientist who in turn was a sole survivor of a climatology expedition to Antarctica gone awry. He’d heard of her work, and she even offered to sit to discuss her study with him over coffee. She seemed very kind, indeed. 

Overwatch had been filled with brilliant minds, gigantic hearts and even bigger trust, and he could sense the camaraderie abound between most of them. Hanzo felt as though he was an outsider in all of it-- and it was true. His only tie to these people was Genji-- and Hanzo felt more isolated here than he had traveling the world on his own. He needed a drink, god damnit, and he opted to sneak into town to stock up his reserves. 

He walked down the hill, clearing past the security checkpoint and digging his hands in his pockets. It was a quiet walk-- one to clear the man’s head and try to push her image from his mind. Her angelic visage, that-- He stopped himself, scowling into the cowl of his coat. She wouldn’t want a man like him. She didn’t want someone like him. It would never happen. Ever. He gave a huff, and before he knew it, he seemed to be wandering the city of Gibraltar for a liquor store. 

He found a bakery, first-- the smell of bread and cakes wafting out into the afternoon street enticing the man in. His sweet tooth knew no bounds; and today was no exception. A slice of cake promptly bought, and some fresh bread that he couldn’t help himself from purchasing as well. It was still warm, and the clerk tucked the bread in a paper bag, opening neatly folded and handed off with a smile. 

Hanzo meandered about the city a while longer, enjoying his alone time quite well, despite his unfortunate state of sobriety. He came to sit in a seaside park, under the shade of a large tree, before he dug in to his coveted piece of cake. It was a vanilla-strawberry tart, decorated and appealing, and just as sweet. 

A pressure on his leg, and his attention snapped to the offender from where he sat on the park bench. Where he expected a pickpocket, it was a dirty, hungry-looking dog. It’s face was wide, and it was certainly ugly. Mismatched ears, one looked as though it had been torn off. It gave a whine to the man, and he pursed his lips at his cake, seemingly thinking a moment, before a gentle pinch of fingers plucked one of the strawberries off the top, to hold to the animal at his knee. 

“Hungry, mm? I am sure no one gives a damn about _you_ , either.” He mused almost miserably, the hungry mongrel lapping the berry from his hand gently. “You cannot find a place to fit in. I understand.” He finished off his cake, before digging into the bag and pulling out the bread, breaking the loaf into little pieces. It was clear to anyone looking that the man had fed strays before-- the Shimada talking to it like a crazy old man. 

He offered bits of the warm bread crust to the dog, to which it happily gobbled up. Hanzo spared an almost affectionate smile, patting the creature on it’s head as it chewed its treat.

“Herr Shimada?” 

Hanzo’s attention snapped up, his heart stopping cold in his chest. It was her-- the medic dressed not in her lab coat but in a black-on-black sweater and jeans. He said nothing, the dog tilting its head rather stupidly in the woman’s direction. A reusable grocery sack on her shoulder and she was smiling at him. His hand touched at and clutched at his chest absentmindedly-- willing it to beat again.

“I didn’t know you fed the local strays when you sneak off-base.” She mused, approaching and setting her grocery bag aside as she sat down next to him. He dared not move, even as her leg brushed past his. Angela reached into the grocery sack for a moment, before pulling out a bit of cooked chicken wrapped neatly into plastic. A snap of its cover, and she offered a few pieces of the meat to the dog. “Here you are, schatzling.” The dog’s stump tail wagged furiously, and it feasted on the offered meat-- likely the best meal it would get for a long, long time. 

Hanzo’s face locked back into it’s stern scowl, and he avoided looking at her. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He’d been caught. 

He could see her smiling at him in the corner of his vision, though the smile faded after a moment. Oh, no. 

“Do you think I dislike you, Hanzo?” She asked, and it was then that the man finally spoke. 

“You… You have every reason to.” His gaze lifted, glancing at her with a quirked brow, even as his stomach twisted. 

“I am a _medical professional_ , Herr Shimada.” She mused, feeding another bit of chicken to the dog. “I hold no grudges, nor do I hold favor over my patients. If you have earned Genji’s forgiveness, then I have no reason to hold anything against you.” She spoke bluntly, that smile returning to her face. “We are all adults, not children on a schoolyard.” She chuckled, reaching over to pinch playfully at the man’s cheek. “My advice to you on fitting in, is that you need to open up. Rely on us, mm?” 

Hanzo’s mouth pinched into a pout, eye squeezing shut before she released his cheek. Perhaps it was best to continue to force himself to speak. “It is… difficult.” 

“I can imagine.” 

“This… closeness, that you all share, is certainly… new, to me.” He seemingly thought aloud. 

“It wasn’t always like that, I assure you.” She mused, chuckling as she seemed to remember a long-lost time. Hanzo stared at her face for a long moment, until her smile faded and she caught him looking. Blue eyes widened, and brows raised, before he broke his gaze away. 

“I am a _bounty hunter_. I was raised to sell arms and drugs. To _kill._ This sort of military… family life is not something I will be accustomed to instantaneously. I do not think--” 

“--And I was an orphan who could rely on no one for a majority of my life.” She didn’t hesitate in responding, cocking a brow at him. “We can all _adapt_ , Hanzo. Don’t focus on it too much, for now.” 

Hanzo was dumbfounded-- she’d been an orphan? Yet she was a busybody, bright and welcoming, and one of the most brilliant, beautiful people he’d ever had the privilege to have met. He was not worthy to breathe in her presence. He was--

“Perhaps I said too much.” Her voice interrupted his thoughts, and for a moment she looked uncomfortable. 

“No, no. I am… tired, is all.” He stammered, breath catching in his throat. A lie-- he was far more awake now than he felt he’d ever been. Perhaps this feeling would get better with time. 

She seemed to have believed the lie, however, offering a little smile as she brushed a lock of that platinum hair behind her ear. “I understand. I am sure you are still adjusting to the time zone, mm?” 

“...Yes.” Another lie, his gaze watching the dog as she fed it another bit of the chicken. 

“Genji told me you might need help getting adjusted. Today has been the first time I have been able to get out of my office this week.” She moved the shopping bag to sit on her lap, rummaging inside and pulling out a bottle wrapped neatly into a paper bag. “I was going to give this to you on-base, but where better than now, mm?” She chuckled, holding it out to him. 

“Oh, I cannot--” He began, his ears burning at the mere *thought* of receiving a gift from her. Though, she pressed on, simply opting to leave it in his lap. 

“Genji said you enjoy Sake, right?” She asked-- and Hanzo couldn’t help but smile at the way she pronounced it, as if she did her best to pronounce it *properly.* “Was he wrong?”

“No, no. I…” 

“Then there is no problem, Hanzo. Consider it an official housewarming gift.” She moved to stand, tucking the chicken away; the dog looking up at her helplessly, its tongue lolling from its mouth rather stupidly. 

“...Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.” He braved saying her name. Though, he looked and sounded stiff-- as per his usual. But she made him trip over his own manners, which both frustrated and enthralled him. 

“Please, call me Angela. No need for formalities, I swear.” She waved her hand dismissively, before looking down to the dog and pointing at Hanzo-- the mongrel looking to the sniper with almost understanding. 

“I will… do my best to remember.” He huffed, tossing the last of the bread to the feet of the hungry dog before moving to stand, himself, cradling the bottle under his arm. “Thank you.” A formal bow, and Angela smiled just as warmly as before. 

“I best get going before something in the medbay catches fire.” She joked, moving to step over the dog and start back up toward the base, waving to Hanzo as she went. “Try not to drink it all in one sitting, Mr. Shimada.” 

“Hmmph. I will not.” He called after her, perhaps a little white lie to appease her mind. 

Though, as the woman disappeared, Hanzo couldn’t help but watch her go-- and wishing that she could have just remained by his side.  

And as he looked down, the dog had wandered off, too. He hoped the bread tasted good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hanzo comes to terms with his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the entirety of this chapter on my phone; so I apologize if it feels off from the rest of the fic.

Hanzo savored that sake— it was a  _ gift, _ of all things. A gift from  _ her.  _ He’d settled down at his work table, meticulously taking apart his bow and cleaning it from all of the traveling and hunting he’d done to get there. A cup, the taste savored on his lips and he mulled over her words as he knocked it back. Her polite conversation was overruled by the message she conveyed. 

 

He had to  _ adapt _ . 

 

He had been on the run from assassins for near a decade. It was difficult to  _ trust  _ after that; to be able to  _ settle down. To adapt.  _ Even now, he counted exits, he placed windows, even ventilation systems and locked doors whenever he could as he entered a room. Even now, the door to his quarters remained locked. 

 

He was  _ paranoid _ . The base had some of the top security. A fully equipped AI watched every entrance, every nook and cranny. With the support of the city states worldwide, he’d been assured they had a remarkable security team. It was impossible to breach without a trained strike team;  And assassins rarely worked on strike teams. Many operated like he did—  _ alone _ . He logically told himself that he was safer here than he ever had been. However, that well of fight-or-flight paranoia bubbled in his gut, the sniper reassembling his bow with a frustrated grunt. That same paranoia had kept him alive, had led him here, and even now, it was telling him that he wanted to leave. 

 

He wanted to stay. 

 

He wanted to be a  _ part  _ of something. Though, he did not  _ deserve  _ to be. He poured himself another cup of the expensive, smooth sake, closing his eyes as he tipped the little cup of its contents into his mouth. He was going to allow himself one more cup— just to take the edge off. Just to relax, unwind, and not think of… 

 

_...Her. _

 

She was just being kind. Though his heart ached for her— he wanted to shake her hand again. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to— He bit his lip, forcibly stopping his train of thought before it got out of hand. He did not want a repeat of his first night. The Shimada sunk down grumpily into his chair, setting the assembled bow aside and tapping a finger on the bottle as he studied it. 

 

It was an import— certainly not cheap. And it was quite good. Most  _ definitely _ not cheap. He recognized the bottle— and it had been one of the more spendier brews. She was just being kind. Genji had told her what he liked. That was all. 

 

God, he  _ loved _ her. It was a childish, schoolyard love. Yet...

 

With a huff, he capped the bottle, trying to tear himself away from it to go to sleep. He was just tired. He was still adjusting to the time zone. For a moment he denied his thought about  _ loving  _ her for a moment, teeth bared as he shook his head. But he  _ couldn’t. _ His fingers pulled off the cap once again, choosing instead to just drink directly from the bottle— the man guzzling it with vigor before slamming it back down, scowling as he realized he’d drank over half of it in a matter of a minute.  And after a few pensive, quiet minutes, the alcohol hit him like a truck. His head grew hazy, and his movements sloppy as he capped the bottle once again. He was numb— comfortably so, setting the bottle aside. 

 

He was a disgrace. 

 

He ached for a woman who likely already had a husband. He pined for her attention— a touch, a  _ glance—  _ and it was  _ disgraceful.  _ He had returned on what now felt to be an impulse to make amends with Genji, and he had barely spoken to him. 

 

He remembered his youth— when Genji had sat down with his brother following one of the parties he’d attended, rambling off about the tail he’d chased and skirts he’d upturned. At the time Hanzo had been disgusted, almost— or perhaps that had been the clan’s brainwashing at its finest. Hanzo never bragged about the women he’d had, or the sparse men he’d perused, either. 

 

Perhaps he could ask Genji… just this once, for help in this situation. And so, he pulled out his communicator and began to drunkenly text his brother. 

 

[Text to: Shimada Genji]

[From: Shimada Hanzo] 

[Genji. I need your help.] 

 

He paused, hitting send. 

 

A few minutes passed, and a response came. 

 

[Text to: Shimada Hanzo]

[From: Shimada Genji] 

[What is it? Are you in danger?]

 

Hanzo immediately panicked— he couldn’t simply tell his brother about this— he wouldn’t hear the end of it. 

 

[Text to: Shimada Genji] 

[From: Shimada Hanzo] 

[Dr. Ziegler purchased Sake for me as a gift to welcome me. I would like to return the favor; is that custom here?]

 

He gave a little smug nod— it was innocent enough! 

 

Almost immediately, he received a reply. 

 

[Text to: Shimada Hanzo] 

[From: Shimada Genji] 

[Dr. Ziegler enjoys Swiss chocolate and other candies. You cannot go wrong with another plant, either. Are you drunk, Anija?] 

 

He thought of replying, but simply tossed the communicator to the bed where it landed with a soft  _ thud. _

 

Swiss chocolate and a plant; that could be done. 


End file.
